Failure
by NuMoahk
Summary: A one-shot scene from the backstory of a certain charater we all know. Atton's failure, and triumph.


The room held his triumph. Or failure, or redemption, or life, or love, or death, or the black hole that would suck him in until he felt no more. Thought no more. Saw no more. Did no more.

Hurt no more.

The report was clear: a Jedi, a Republic follower, looking. Searching. For him. Only him, no other. Impossible. He wasn't known, didn't exist. He was nothing, no one. They couldn't be looking for him. But they were. They were tenacious. Again, and again, and again they questioned, hunted, followed. So he did what he did best, hunted back. Followed. Watched. And when the time came, took. It was easy. No fight. A tranq dart, 600 meters. Down like a sack of baggage. Scooped up, bound up, blocked up. In out and done, no on Klatooine the wiser. Long flight back. All the way back. To Korriban. Silent, as always. Never spoke, never looked, never noticed. She talked. A lot. To him. About him. Knew things; too many things. Impossible for her to know. Saw him, _him._ Not the outer him, the façade him, but the him him. It was too much. Too hard.

10

+3

17

19

Hold

Back, and he had started. Force deprivation, easy enough. That always hurt them, shook them, made them question; fear. She didn't. Never screamed. Never shouted. Never pleaded. Just watched. Just listened. Just…understood.

4

12

22

-2

Hold

He struck back. Any way he could, any way he knew how, any way he could bring the pain in him on her. But she always took it, always accepted, always felt.

Then she told him she loved him. Didn't say it. Croaked it. Barely enough water left in her for speech. But he heard it. He heard it. Every word. He felt the wall. He hit it; slid down. Sitting. She kept talking.

Knew who he was. What he was. Every bit.

"You're a force sensitive." She whispered. Her lips bled. He nodded. Didn't know why, just did. Look in her eyes; she'd known it. Embraced it.

"Why?" So simple, so simple. No answer. Can't have an answer. Too much, too fast, not enough.

2

8

13

21

-1

Hold

Saw through it.

"Play pazaak." She said. "Feed emotions, you make a barrier."

"Wrap yourself up, so deep in hate. Fear, anger."

"Do you really feel that?" He didn't know. How…how she could talk. Say these things. Everything he did, should be dead. Catatonic. Just kept talking. Just kept _seeing._

"You hide. From her. From her. She keeps you here. You're…a prisoner, just like me."

"I love you. I thought I did, when heard of you. Know it now, for sure."

Why why why _why why _WHY WHY _WHY!_ Not possible, not right, not here, not there, no way, no reason. But she said it, meant he. He could feel it, everywhere. Felt it. Everywhere. No lies. Only truth. Truth. Honest truth. No lies.

He was on top of her. Suddenly. Didn't know how. Hands, around her neck. Blood, everywhere.

"NO NO NO! Not true! _NOT TRUE!"_ So much pain. So much pain. All of it, from her, to him. Everything. His hands around his/her neck. Her/his pain, all through him/her. So much pain. So much pain. Just squeezed, squeezed. Anger, rage, pain. So much pain. His body, on his. His hands, on his neck. So much pain. Not enough. Not enough. Felt it all, of hers, not enough. One hand, beating. Blood, bones break. His, hers, doesn't matter. Had to let it out, one way, or another. Couldn't keep it in, no way to keep it in. Screaming, from him. Maybe from her. Couldn't tell.

So much pain.

So much pain.

So much pain.

But love too.

Too much love. Impossible. The pain, the pain, so much pain, he could take. Could accept, could feel, could ravish it, embrace it, destroy it. But love, so much love. Too much love, for too much pain. And still not dead. Impossible. Had to stop it, had to stop it. More pain, more pain.

More love. More love.

It can't…couldn't…is. Love. No matter what. Everywhere. All the pain; nothing. Hands around his/her neck didn't matter. Life, leaving. Love, stayed. So much love. So much pain. No stop. No barrier.

1

7

…9

……….9

…………………9

So much love. So much pain. No shields. No barriers. No control. No life. Gone. His body. His hands. His pain. No life, not anymore. Empty; done. She was done. No words, no sight, no pain, no horror. No truth. She was gone.

Love was there….still.


End file.
